


Puppy Kicking, Baby Punching

by palavreado



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-24
Updated: 2011-10-24
Packaged: 2017-10-24 22:31:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palavreado/pseuds/palavreado
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein utterly smashed friendship knows no bounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puppy Kicking, Baby Punching

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first Good Omens fanfiction. It marks the moment in which I filthied the fandom with my presence. Enjoy.

When they’re both a comfortable amount of pissed and just sitting still in the unmoving Bentley, far too tired to use the magical heaven/hellgiven powers of sobering up, Aziraphale lets out a small chortle from the back of his throat.

“Wot?” an intoxicated Crowley asks.

“Oh, ‘s just… ya know… I really like you… like, like… a lot,” Aziraphale manages between deep, irregular breaths.

“Yeah?”

“Yes… I mean, yer the only company I have here in this… place. I’d do ‘nythin’ for ya, Crowley.”

“Uhuh?”

Aziraphale giggles again, “Uuuhuh, even… ev’n wear leather.”

“Blimey!”

“I know! And kick a puppy, ‘cept maybe not those cute ones but the other kind.”

“Whoa!”

“An’… an’… punch a baby,” Aziraphale positively crashed onto the car’s unknowing dashboard in a fit of hysterics “I’d punch a baby for ya, Crowley,” he slurred.

Crowley was about to reply, no doubt already mentally preparing his magnificent rebuttal (all with the purpose of one-upping the angel, of course), when the soothing voice of Freddie Mercury quelled his own words.

 _CROWLEY, WE HAVE GREAT NEWS_

The demon sobered up just a pinch “Yeah?”

 _THE APOCALYPSE IS FINALLY HERE, CROWLEY. REJOICE AS THE ANTICHIRST IS GIVEN UNTO YOU FOR SAFEKEEPING._

“Given… unto me?”

 _YES, CROWLEY. CLEARLY, AN HONOUR WE HAVE CONCLUDED YOU RIGHTFULLY DESERVE AFTER YOUR EXCELLENT PERFORMANCE ON EARTH._

“O… kay.”

 _WE ANXIOUSLY AWAIT YOUR REPORTSanybody find meeeeeee, somebody to loooooove?_

Aziraphale, who had been innocently unaware of the conversation occurring directly beside him, stopped fiddling absently with his thumbs (“three, Crowley! I have three thumbs!”) and hit the radio with a rather un-angelic dignity “Ughhhh… hate that song,” he mumbled, “I don’t really remember it going that way, though. Izzit a new version, Crowley?”

“Angel, do you remember that thing about punching babies?”

“Yesh… why?”

“That can be arranged.”


End file.
